One of A Kind Feline
by PhoebeSnow
Summary: After Toby dies, Molly gets a new cat, but it's nothing like what she expected. Cover art by @simplyshelbs16!
1. Prologue

**London. Baker Street. 1895.**

Sherlock eyed the brunette in front of him warily, feeling the uncomfortableness that he always did when he was in the presence of an emotional woman - not to mention, one who was crying. "Please stop with the theatrics, Janine. I told you that the concept of you and I as a couple would be a bad idea."

"And yet, you _still_ decided to start courting me."

Sherlock looked at Janine and raised an eyebrow. "If you had been more perceptive, you would have known better than to become involved with me, Janine. Even if I hadn't dated you with the intent of getting into your boss' house and bringing him to justice, I _did_ warn you. I'm not the kind of man who cares for sentiment. Romance is faulty and dangerous for someone like me. Besides, I'm married to my work."

"Really?" The brunette glared at him, tears running down her cheeks. "It certainly didn't feel like you weren't romantic when you were wooing me."

"I played a part, Janine. I said everything that you wanted me to say and did everything you wanted me to do. You should have been able to tell that there was something off in the way I went about "wooing" you."

Janine laughed mirthlessly. "I fell in love with you, Sherlock."

"Seeing me through rose colored glasses has only hurt yourself in the long run."

"You are a heartless, manipulative man. I can't believe that I wasted my feelings on you."

"I'm sure that you'll get over me in time, madam."

Janine covered her mouth with her hand and the only sound in the room were her muffled sobs.

It was incredibly awkward for Sherlock to stand there and watch his now ex fiancée weep in front of him. He did feel a slight twinge of shame for using her in such a tactless way, but Sir Charles Augustus Magnussen was a horrible man who used his knowledge to blackmail and slander many people in the world.

As callous as it was to admit, Sherlock would have betrothed himself to Janine all over again because it gave him a reason to frequent the man's home and eventually, break into his library to find the evidence needed to prove that Magnussen was, in fact, a criminal.

Sherlock Holmes did not lead a very conventional life and because of his cold, calculating persona, he was considered an oddball and an outcast in most social circles. It was not, in his eyes, a cross he had to bear because he honestly didn't care what people thought of him.

Well, he did care what his two closest friends, John and Mary Watson, thought about him. And he included Mrs. Hudson and even LeStrade to that small group, but besides them, there was no one else.

The consulting detective had been thinking about how to get Janine out of the room without making her any more upset than she already was, but she'd stopped crying and now stood at the door.

"I thought you were a good man, but I was wrong." Janine's eyes flashed a deep violet and suddenly, a strong wind whipped about the room. In an instant, her burgundy dress became a strange green corseted gown that clung to her like a second skin.

Sherlock widened his eyes in shock as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening. "Janine? How are you doing this? Is this some kind of trick?"

"Oh, _no_ , Sherl. This is all me. You see, I'm an enchantress and my duty for as long as I exist on this earth is to test the hearts and minds of men. I'm afraid you have failed my test."

Was Janine trying to play off her hurt feelings by fantasy or was she genuine? Sherlock wanted to believe the former, but after seeing her...transform in front of him, he had a difficult time reconciling it. "Are you saying that our relationship was something you staged?"

"Yes. I've done this many times before, but my feelings for you were real. I thought that perhaps, with a good woman in your life, you would change. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. Deep down inside, I suspected you to fail from the moment I first saw you. Sometimes, men do surprise me, although, **you** were doomed from the beginning. You possess a heart, Sherlock Holmes, but it is cold and fueled by logic. This will not do."

The tone of Janine's voice was troubling.

"Does that mean you plan to kill me?"

"Certainly not! Killing never does any good. How else can you learn from your mistakes? I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourself."

The purple light emanating from Janine's hand put Sherlock ill at ease. He knew he hadn't taken a seven percent solution of cocaine, so this must be real. "I suppose I am...grateful."

She smiled. "You won't think that when I'm finished with you."

Before Sherlock could ask what she meant by that, Janine held out her hand and the purple glow from her fingertips stretched out and hit him in the chest. It was painful and he cried out in horror as he felt his body shrink, bones crack and skin turn from smooth flesh to hairy fur.

Moments later, he was on all fours, staring up at Janine and she picked him up in her arms. Sherlock tried to speak, but only a meow came out. Despair ran through him and he felt a sense of true helplessness for the first time in his life.

"Welcome to your new life as a cat. When you finally warm that dark heart of yours and find love with someone who loves you back, the curse will be broken and you will be a man again. But for now...I don't think these apartments suit you." Janine carried the black cat in her arms down the stairs and outside into the London air.


	2. Finding A New Companion

_Molly decides to adopt another cat._

* * *

 **London. Mille's Pet Shop. 2015.**

"Wait a minute. You're taking me to a pet shop?"

"Yes, Molly. Come on. It's been a month since Toby died. I know you loved him, but you have to move on at some point."

"And you think replacing him is the best way to do that?"

"...you know that's not what I meant. Of course, there will never be another Toby. All animals are different, but maybe adopting another cat would make things easier."

Molly sighed and crossed her arms, glaring up at the pet shop sign in front of her. She didn't want to just forget about Toby, but she knew her friend had a valid point. This wasn't about replacing her cat, but finding a new pet to ease her loss. After a few moment's deliberation, she opened the door with Mary in tow.

A little bell rung and a woman behind the cash register greeted them. "Hello, ladies."

Mary and Molly said hello back and the former nudged Molly forward. "Go on. Tell her what you want."

The other woman came out from behind the service counter. "What can I help you with?"

Molly smiled a little. "I was hoping to adopt a cat."

"Oh, wonderful! We have many breeds and sexes ranging from kittens to adult cats. Do you have any in specific that you're looking for?"

Her reply was instantaneous. "A black adult cat, and male, if you've got one."

"As a matter of fact, we have many black cats. Most of them happen to be male, too. So you've come to the right place. Follow me. We keep the adult cats in the back."

Molly and Mary walked with the pet shop employee - her name tag said Tilda - and she led them to what looked like a rec room with a large pen of cats in the middle of the floor. There were also smaller, animal sized pens lined along the wall, each on top of the other.

Once the three women had walked into the room, Tilda pursed her lips. "Let's see. We have two black male cats in the open pen and I think...five in their individual ones. Go ahead and take your pick."

Molly looked over all of the black cats carefully, not really finding one that she felt impressed to get, until she came to the last pen where a cat lie on his side, licking his paw. "Hey, there," she said softly. The cat's ears perked up and he turned his head to meet her eyes.

The beautiful cerulean and emerald orbs that looked back at her made Molly gasp in surprise. She'd never seen such lovely eyes on a cat and something about the way he stared at her made her heart clench. A strange stirring surged in her chest as both woman and cat watched each other carefully.

It was strange, but Molly felt a sense of peace looking into those beautiful eyes. They were so warm and almost familiar to her.

This cat was definitely something special.

After what felt like an eternity, Molly shook herself and waved Tilda over. "I've found the one I want."

Mary had been holding a grey tabby and put him down when she noticed the cat Molly picked. "Aw, he's adorable."

Tilda frowned. "Are you sure you want that one, miss?"

"Yeah, why? Is he an ill mannered cat?"

"Not exactly. It's kind of hard to explain. He's not a bad cat, but he can be...odd at times, as if he knows he doesn't belong here or something. We don't feed him cat food because he never eats it. We can only get him to eat tuna, salmon, veggies and so on. It's like he has the palate of a human."

Molly wrinkled her nose and looked at the black cat again. He now stood on all fours and was standing up to the tiny door of his pen, meowing softly and staring at her. For some silly reason, Molly felt that she was meant to find this cat, and he seemed to feel a pull to her as well.

"Okay, so he's a little odd, but that's fine with me. All cats have a unique personality. I'll take him."

Tilda nodded and pulled out her ring of keys and unlocked the little door. Before she could reach in the container to pick up the cat, he took the initiative and walked out, then hopped into Molly's arms. He purred and rubbed his head against her shirt, making the women smile.

"He's taken a shine to you."

"I'm glad the feeling's mutual." Molly stroked the cat's head between his ears like all cats enjoyed.

"If you'll wait a moment, I'll get the proper paperwork for you to sign and we can go from there." Tilda opened a drawer across the room and began to pull out forms for adopting the cat.

Mary scratched the cat's chin and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "He's such a cutie. Those eyes are so blue and green, too."

"Aren't they? And I think she was right." - at, this, Molly motioned to Tilda - "something about this cat is almost human like."

"But I thought all cats had that trait."

"Mm, not all. This guy is different, though. I can't understand it, but he's special."

"And he clearly likes you, which can't hurt."

The cat covered Molly's hand with his paw and she cooed at the sudden affection. "Oh, I think I'm already falling in love with him. If only I could find a man who I could say the same thing about."

Mary shushed her friend and rubbed her back encouragingly. "Don't beat yourself up over it, Molls. Right now, a cat is the next best thing."

"I guess you're right." Molly giggled when the cat lapped at her fingers. "He's really sweet."

If she had the gift of telekinesis, she certainly would have heard the cat's soft reply, _"You're not so bad yourself...Molly."_


	3. In His World

_Sherlock muses on his life up until this point._

* * *

Sherlock wondered, if he did find the woman he was meant to be with, would she actually _see_ his transformation up close or would it happen when she wasn't looking?

Not that it mattered. Just as long as he was free from this cat body, he would marry her the next day if she would have him. That is how desperate he was to be a man again. It was too bad, really, because Missy had an older sister who'd taken a shine to him, but before he could see where things would go, he was run over by a large eighteen wheeler.

A lesser man would have probably gone mad from being in cat form and dying three times, but Sherlock prided himself on being superior to the ordinary man. Although, he significantly mellowed out during his several lives. When he awakened in this new one, still with the same black fur and blue-green eyes, he found that he was in England again, and in a pet shop, no less.

Sherlock was sure that Janine was somewhere laughing at his unhappy predicament, but he conceded that he _was_ partly to blame for this unfortunate circumstance. Perhaps if he had found a different way to nab Magnussen, he'd still be living as a man back in the 18th century.

Although, it was a bit unfair to have your heart tested by a woman who led you to believe she was just a maid when she was really an enchantress. Evidently, the world was full of magical beings if one knew where to look, but Sherlock wasn't going to cross paths with them. Not if he could help it. One encounter had been more than enough.

Sherlock then thought of Molly. She lost a cat of her own but from the persuasion of her friend, Mary, she chose to look for a new pet and picked him. He had become resigned to the belief that he would never meet his true love and eventually just perish in cat form for good.

And yet...there had been a spark. When Molly looked into Sherlock's eyes, he felt a tingling in his furry body that surprised him and made him gaze back at her. Something felt _right_ about this woman in front of him, like she was meant to find him.

When Molly had picked him, he hadn't hesitated jumping into her arms the minute Tilda opened his tiny pen. It had been so long since he felt a person's hands run against his fur and as Molly rubbed between his ears and smoothed her fingers along the expanse of his back, Sherlock felt a rush of happiness run through him.

For the first time in a long time, perhaps forever, Sherlock felt like he had found a home. Was she the one?

 _Only time will tell,_ he thought to himself.

Molly's big brown eyes looked so adoringly at him and when she said, almost in wonder, "Oh, I think I'm already falling in love with him," Sherlock felt like he might yell in exhilaration. His hopes couldn't help but go up from her affection.

Once she finished signing the paperwork and paid for him, Molly carried him in her arms and decided to walk home. That was perfectly alright with Sherlock, of course. Being held by this woman was a pleasure.


	4. The Pathologist and Her Cat

_Sherlock rather likes Molly Hooper._

* * *

Molly opened the door to her flat and walked inside, closing the door and then, she put Sherlock down on the ground. "Here we are. Home sweet home."

Once out of her arms, Sherlock took a look around, taking in the nice sized apartment. He concluded that she must have a well-paying job for rooms like these. _What kind of career does she have_ , he pondered.

"He's definitely not like Toby," said Mary, her lips turned up in a smile as she placed her bags of purchases for Sherlock on the coffee table.

"No, he has a bit of human like qualities." Molly shook her head in amazement. "It's intriguing. I wish I could read his mind and see what he's thinking."

"Like Doctor Doolittle, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Something tells me that you'll figure him out soon enough." Mary's eyes glanced at the collar around the cat's neck. "How about that name, though?"

"Right. Sherlock." When Molly said his name, Sherlock's ears perked up and he left the kitchen, walking back into the living room and stopped at his owner's feet. He meowed softly, secretly wishing that they could communicate and understand each other, but until he became a human again, this would have to do.

The brunette smiled as he rubbed against her leg.

"You have such an odd name for a cat, but I like it. Somehow...it fits you."

There was a mobile chime from Mary's phone and she picked it up, reading a text that John had sent her. After reading it, she laughed and shook her head. "I'd better go. Rosie's getting fussy and she doesn't want her daddy."

Molly smirked. "Aw, and John's feeling down?"

"From how brief his text was, I'd say he is. For the first few months, Rosie hardly ever wanted me around. It was all about John and he actually was the one who fed and changed her for the most part. Now, she's switched on us and he's a bit jealous."

"I'm glad I got a cat instead. They're _so_ much easier to manage." Molly said with a smirk.

"That's what you think. You and Sherlock may have had a connection when you first saw each other, but he's going to drive you crazy before this week is over. Mark my words."

Molly tsked and picked Sherlock up, rubbing between his ears, her touch comforting. "Rubbish. I think we'll get along wonderfully, won't we, Sherlock?"

He meowed his agreement and looked at her with as much affection as he could muster. Then he curiously looked at Mary, who reached forward to scratch under his chin. Sherlock marveled at the woman's shocking resemblance to his old friend Dr. John Watson's wife when he knew them in the 1800s.

Not only that, but this Mary had a husband named John, too? Was this a part of the magic spell Janine had placed on him? Something was very odd about this entire situation. Could Molly Hooper be surrounded by people who were descendants of Sherlock's old friends who also happened to share the same names? Only time would tell.

Shortly afterwards, Mary said her goodbyes and left the flat.

"Well," Molly said smiling down at Sherlock. "Tilda said you actually like baths, so shall we get you cleaned up?"

 _Yes, please!_ Was Sherlock's reply, but as usual, it came out in a meow of affirmation.

The brunette carried her new pet to the bedroom and Sherlock spied a cat bed in the corner of her room and he smiled.

Good. He'd rather sleep in here than be alone. Sherlock used to think that being alone was a good thing, but after a few lives later, he had very much changed his tune. Companionship was not something he took lightly anymore, and even though there was always an initial dislike of the the idea that he was someone's pet, Sherlock decided that belonging to Molly Hooper wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

* * *

Sherlock enjoyed taking baths, but he loved the one he'd just been given by Molly because of how gentle she was with him. She had callouses on her fingers, no doubt from the kind of work she did, but her touch had been so warm that he enjoyed it more than any bath he'd ever experienced.

While Molly had been preparing the water, Sherlock had a feeling that she worked in a hospital, judging by the faint smell of chemicals on her clothes. It gave him a sense of glee that his owner was not a simpleton or an ordinary person by any means - although, shortly after seeing her in the pet shop, he already knew she was special. Molly Hooper had a mind that Sherlock would _definitely_ love to pick when he got his human body back.

After his fur coat was clean and dry, both Sherlock and Molly made their way to the kitchen. Sherlock felt his stomach growl a little and his eyes widened in happiness when Molly took out the two medium sized bowls that she bought for him and placed them on the floor. She filled one with water and he immediately went over to drink out of it.

Molly opened a can of tuna and emptied the contents into Sherlock's food bowl, then dumped the can into the bin. "It's funny that you have human-like tastes, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you like baths and goodness knows what else. You're an unusual cat, Sherlock, but you're still really cute." She winked at him and Sherlock felt a warmth grow in his chest.

How strange that a woman tells him in his cat form that he's cute and he feels pride about it. In Sherlock's previous lives, he'd been complimented by the fair sex often enough, but with Molly, it was different. Once again, he sensed that odd tug in his heart when she smirked at him, like he was familiar with that facial expression.

Could Molly have been in his life when he was Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective in the 1800s and he overlooked her somehow? If so, he was a bigger idiot than he thought to not recognize such a lovely woman. This Molly, _his_ Molly was a kind soul. Her sweet spirit was truly endearing to his presence of mind.

And the more time Sherlock spent with her, the more he found himself believing with all of his heart that Molly was the one for him.


	5. My Dear Molly

_Sherlock begins to fall._

* * *

Sherlock and Molly had a routine. Every day she came home, she would give him a bath - as always, he **loved** getting baths - and she'd tell him about her day. She liked to tell him about her work and the things she discovered about her deceased patients.

Apparently, Molly didn't have many people she could talk to about her career, as it was considered disturbing to the ordinary human being. That was a lot of rubbish, in Sherlock's opinion. If anyone thought she was morbid or had some fascination with death just because she was a pathologist, they were idiots, plain and simple. Molly Hooper was a sweet soul who felt that her calling was the field of pathology.

Death did not fascinate her. It was a silly thing, but she felt more comfortable around corpses than living people sometimes. They were less complicated, but that wasn't the sole reason Molly loved pathology.

Her eyes had been opened to the sadness of a lost life. Being a pathologist also taught Molly that it was important to treasure life because time was fleeting and no one could get back the time they had lost.

To Sherlock, Molly was a brilliant woman and he found it hard to believe that she was still single. Clearly, the morons in London were blind to how special she was. Of course, Sherlock was glad that he had her all to himself, but he saw the effect that being alone had on her. Sometimes, when Molly was in the privacy of her own home, she'd cry, holding him close to her chest.

She never said anything, but Sherlock was not a fool. Molly wept because she believed that she was alone and that she would always be alone. She felt as if she were missing out in a way, like her life wasn't complete. She was thirty-five years old and the prospects were very slim. With a pang, Sherlock thought of how she'd be considered an old maid in the 1800s. It was ridiculous that society would have limited a woman based on her age, condemning her to spinsterhood if she did not marry young.

Sherlock had always felt like he was a man out of time - perhaps now, more than ever! - but he understood much better the unfair standards that women were given in his time and the struggles they still went through to this very day. Particularly when it came to things like matrimony and motherhood. It was extremely sobering.

Although Molly did go to bed with her face strewn with tears and sadness in her eyes, she always seemed to light up whenever Sherlock hopped up on the mattress with her. He would meow softly as he always did, making her smile and hug him to her body.

More than anything in the world, Sherlock wanted to hold her in his arms as a man, kiss away her tears and tell her that she would never be alone again. Spending more time with Molly, seeing her in her own environment, observing her endearing personality quirks and her sweetness of spirit, all made Sherlock realise that he falling for her.

He stopped thinking of her as just Molly and began thinking of her as _his_ Molly, like she belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her.

 _That must mean that the spell is half complete,_ he mused. _All I need now is for her to love me, but how will that work? I've heard her say often enough that my eyes are familiar. I wish I could find out if I knew her in my past._

Luckily, for Sherlock and Molly, Janine was keeping track of their progress with great interest. In only a month, woman and cat had developed strong feelings for each other. A smile spread on the enchantress' lips. From the first moment they saw each other in the pet shop, Janine suspected that things would happen very quickly.

Now, it was time to start the dreams.

* * *

Molly came home, tired from another long day at work. After changing into her nightgown, she got in the bed, and, as usual, Sherlock lie next to her, curled up on his side, chest moving up and down steadily. He seemed to be exhausted himself since he was not sleeping in the cat bed in the corner. Perhaps he wanted to know that she was close by.

The pathologist smiled at the thought and gently ran her hand over the cat's black fur. "Goodnight, Sherlock." Soon afterwards, Molly fell into a deep sleep.

That was when the dream began.

Molly saw images and visions of people whirling around her. It was as if old memories were resurfacing after being repressed for a long time.

She could see herself at Bart's, but it wasn't the hospital as she knew it now. This was Bart's in the past, perhaps the eighteenth century. Gas lamps lit a darkened hallway as Molly walked through the corridors, past many different doors. From the smell and markings, she recognized that she was in the morgue.

Her footsteps clacked along the floor and finally, she stopped at a door that said Dr. Mortimer Hooper. Confusion riddled her at this name. _Mortimer?_ That couldn't be right. Molly knew her ancestry quite well and she didn't remember a doctor who worked at Bart's years ago. What in the world was this dream supposed to mean?

When she opened the door, a sense of agitation rose up within her as she faced the person on the other side of the door. She glared at the tall man who stood, leafing through one of her medical journals. "Holmes," she said in a stern voice.

The man turned to look back at her, matching the intensity of her glare with his own. "Hooper," he drawled and that baritone voice rolled over her like an ocean wave. From the cold greeting, Molly surmised that they were acquainted and not fond of each other.

That was when she realised in shock that those blue-green eyes peering at her were eyes she knew extremely well.

They were _Sherlock's_ eyes.


	6. Decisions

_Molly gets a date and Sherlock starts to remember._

* * *

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. Molly glanced at Sherlock as he lapped up the milk she'd poured into his bowl.

There was absolutely no way that she had designs on her cat. That was just weird and bestiality was really disgusting. Maybe that harlequin romance book she'd been reading the past couple of days had influenced her dreams. Who knew? Of course, it still was strange how Sherlock's eyes looked like they belonged to the eyes of the man in her dream. _Holmes._

That name was familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was a name of one of the romantic heroines in her books that she'd read ages ago and it just popped into her dream for some reason.

But that was another thing. Her dream wasn't erotic by any means and there had been no kissing. Whoever Molly was supposed to be, that Dr. Mortimer Hooper, he and Holmes didn't like each other at all. But **why** didn't they like each other? Were they rivals or enemies?

There were far too many questions that needed answering and it would probably stay that way. Molly had the next week off from work and she decided that it'd be best for her to get out of her flat for a while. So, after leaving Sherlock plenty of water and Cheerios - he hadn't stopped looking at her with those beautiful eyes until she gave him some - she went to spend some time with her friends.

* * *

"You've got the hots for your cat? That's weird."

"Shut up, Meena. I do **not** have the hots for Sherlock."

Mary added, "Well, you talk about him enough and if he's really got such mesmerizing eyes like you said, maybe you should get him neutered so he can't use his charms on any other felines in the area."

"What?" Molly felt a strange buzzing in her ears. "No. Sherlock would never do that because he's not like a regular tomcat."

"So you've said."

"And I wasn't making it up! I don't let him leave the house unless he's with me anyway and he never runs off on his own."

"Never?"

" _Never._ He's completely trustworthy and I have no reason to neuter him." Molly took a sip of her tea and her friends knew it was better to leave it alone.

"Fine but maybe you need to spend some time away from him since you're almost always at home. You're off this week, right?"

" What could I possibly do? I don't have much of a social life."

"Go on a date! Me and Meena can set you up with someone!"

Meena's lips spread into a smile. "That's right! Between the two of us, we know tons of people and a lot of them work at the surgery or hospitals. So you probably won't have to worry about them having an issue with your being a pathologist..."

"No, no. Please. I'd rather go on a date with someone who doesn't work at a hospital. I can't remember how many dates I've been on with men who work at Bart's or another place. Just find me a guy who isn't disturbed by death, but not a psycho."

Mary and Meena looked at each other and began to go through their phones, looking for the perfect man. In a few minutes, Meena found a picture. "Okay, what about Tom? He's a writer for The London Times and he writes obituaries."

"The obits?" Molly pursed her lips.

"Yeah, but he's such a sweet guy and kind of like you in some ways. He's unsentimental about death, but he has a respect for it. I think you both would get along splendidly."

The more Molly looked at Tom's picture, the more she realised that he had a slight similiarity to the man called Holmes that she'd been dreaming about. With that in mind, she nodded. "Okay, call him."

Meena moved away from the table and rang Tom's cell. While she did that, Mary looked at Molly curiously. "You said yes rather quickly. Any particular reason why?" Her tone was cautious and Molly recognized that Mary was trying to read her.

Calmly, she replied, "No. He just has a nice face. That's all."

"Hm."

Mary did not believe her.

* * *

A few moments on her mobile and Meena returned to the table with good news. Tom would be willing to go out with Molly that very evening if she were free. Molly spoke to him briefly and they both agreed on a date for seven o'clock. The girls went shopping after lunch so Molly could get something new for her date. Then she made her way home.

When she unlocked the door to her flat and stepped inside, she saw Sherlock lying on the sofa sleeping. She didn't know it, but he was dreaming about the past.

In his dream, Sherlock was walking along the cobbled streets of London, destination unknown. It was the 1800s and clearly, a busy time of the day with the streets full of people, hansom cabs, carriages and the like.

Someone bumped into Sherlock's shoulder and he nearly fell down, but the detective used his quick reflexes to grab the man and pull him back up to a standing position. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright," the man replied a bit gruffly and when he fixed his jacket and their eyes met, Sherlock blinked in surprise.

The person he nearly bowled over was none other than-

"Hooper," he said, brow furrowing.

"Holmes," grumbled the other man, a curious shade of bright red on his cheeks. Strangely, though, he could not clearly see Hooper's eyes. They were blurred to him and the more he tried to focus, the further away he seemed.

Before Sherlock could say anything else, the dream fizzled out and he woke up. Dear God! Molly was Hooper! Dr. Mortimer Hooper! But it couldn't be possible. Sherlock knew Hooper and he was _definitely_ a man. This made no sense. Had Molly's spirit somehow been reborn in a female's body in this century? Was he really entertaining such ludicrous thoughts?

 _Not **so** ludicrous, Sherlock. You are in a cat's body, remember?_

The black cat rubbed his head against the soft cushion of the sofa. If he ever needed Janine to show up, it was now! His thoughts were interrupted by Molly, who was humming to herself. Curious, Sherlock jumped off the sofa and made his way to her room, noticing the packages on her bed. Odd. She'd purchased new clothes, but why?

He hopped on the mattress to take a look. There was fancy black lingerie, a slinky black dress with gold trim and a sweetheart neckline, a matching necklace, earrings and an arm bangle to go with her new outfit. A pang ran through him as he realised that she was going on a date and she also wanted to impress the man in question.

"Oh, you're finally awake, Sherlock!" Molly had just come out of her bathroom and was currently wrapped in a towel, water dripping down her skin.

Sherlock's heart gave a lurch at the sight. Molly looked so sexy in that towel. Damn this curse! If he were a man, he would take her in his arms and lavish her with passionate kisses, exploring every inch of her body until she begged for mercy. But he couldn't because he was still in a cat's body and Molly was starting to move on.

"What's wrong?" Molly came over to the bed and sat down, stroking his fur with her palm. "You look sad. Is it because I was gone for so long? Meena and Mary kept me out a bit longer than I expected. They set me up on a date and, well...I decided to get a few things. His name is Tom and he seems really nice. I hope he'll like me."

Sherlock closed his eyes, fighting the urge to howl in desperation.

Molly's voice sounded a bit shaky as she continued. "A girl has to live her life one way or another, Sherlock. I know you're probably not happy about it, but don't worry. I'll always have time for you." She was silent for a moment and glanced up at the clock on her bedroom wall. "Hey! You know what? My date isn't until seven, so why don't I get dressed and we can watch some crap telly together, hm?"

Sherlock meowed softly and Molly smiled, taking that to be his agreement. She rubbed her cat's head again and stood up, going to her wardrobe to find a change of comfortable clothes.

As she began looking for something to wear, Sherlock started to think. Whoever this Tom was, he couldn't just walk into Molly's life and take her away from him. Molly belonged to Sherlock alone and he would do whatever was necessary to keep her.


	7. Only Human

_Sherlock ruins Molly's date and after a hundred and twenty years of living in a cat's body, he finally becomes a man again._

* * *

When Sherlock heard the knock at the door, the cat hopped off the sofa. _The man of the hour has finally arrived,_ he thought to himself with menacing glee. Molly called "Coming!" and went to answer it, opening the door and greeting her date. Upon seeing the man's face, Sherlock scowled.

Molly had gotten a date with his own lookalike! And not even an _attractive_ lookalike either - although, in Sherlock's opinion, there was _no one_ who could accurately resemble him unless they used a plaster mold of his own face and he wasn't in a human body at present, so that would be impossible. The black cat bristled with indignation, but he wasn't angry with Molly. She didn't know any better. The poor woman had never seen Sherlock's human face and it's not like she did this on purpose to spite him, so she wasn't to blame.

But this Tom bastard. He was the problem that needed to be taken care of. If Sherlock were being fair, he would have felt bad for what he was about to do, but the fact of the matter was, Tom had just come into Sherlock's territory with the intent of wining, dining and perhaps even sleeping with Molly. That was unacceptable, so fairness was out the window.

When Molly went to fetch get her coat and purse from the sofa, Sherlock extended his claws and promptly scratched the bottom of Tom's pants. He did a pretty good job of it and enjoyed the sound of torn cloth before the man started yelping and jumping away from him like red hot coals had been heaped on his feet.

"What the hell?!" Cried the awful clone.

"What's wrong?" Molly hurried over and she narrowed her eyes at Sherlock when she saw the marks of cat claws trailing down Tom's neatly pressed trousers. "Sherlock! What did you do?!" She reached down to snatch him up, but he dodged her hands and dug his claws into Tom's now-exposed ankles.

" _Ow!_ Damn! Is your cat crazy?!" Tom yelled and with a painful moan, he hobbled towards the front door.

Molly stopped chasing Sherlock when she realised that her date was about to depart. "No, Tom. Wait, please. This is just a big misunderstanding." Her voice came out in a shaky, embarrassed laugh as she wrung her hands. "Sh-Sherlock was just frightened of you, that's all."

"Frightened? Are you kidding? Frightened pets don't dig their claws into strangers because they're scared! And if you ask me, any woman whose cat is defensive to the point of violence is probably marking his territory! You two deserve each other!"

The implication of Tom's words made any further pleas die on Molly's lips. She stood silent as Tom sent one last glare at her cat and left the flat, slamming the door shut.

Sherlock was angry hearing Tom's parting words and sorely wished that he'd bit the man's calf, too, but that didn't matter now. His mission was accomplished. Molly's date was successfully stopped before it even began. The cat turned to look at his owner, beaming with pride, but she was not amused.

Tears rolled down Molly's cheeks as she shouted at him, "Are you happy?! You drove him away!"

Sherlock took a few steps backward, confused by her outburst.

"Do you want me to be alone for the rest of my life?! Do you think I want to be a crazy lady who has a cat as her only company because she's too strange for anyone to be with? Why would you do something like that, Sherlock? _Why_?!"

"Because I love you!"

Molly gasped. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. No. She just imagined that, right? There was no possible way that Sherlock actually spoke. Animals **couldn't** speak. Everyone knew that.

Her cat stepped forward, looking just as shocked as she was, but those blue-green eyes of his were more dazzling and more familiar than ever before. Unbelievably, his lips moved again, exactly like a human's.

"Yes. You did hear me, Molly, and this isn't a dream or a hallucination. I love you and I'm not going to share you with a poor replica of myself."

That voice. That baritone voice. It was the same one from the man in her dreams, the man from a life long forgotten. Molly's legs trembled and she stared down at her cat in shock. Sherlock and Holmes. _Sherlock Holmes._ A man in her dreams and a cat in her life now, but they were the one and the same. They **always** had been.

At the same time, Sherlock realised that Dr. Mortimer Hooper, the infuriating pathologist from Barts that he'd never got along with all those years ago had been Molly, but she was disguised as a man. And he never found out the truth. As her memory resurfaced, so did his and they both saw the past together.

It was a cold night in London and she was riding in a hansom cab in her male disguise as Dr. Mortimer Hooper. Molly and Sherlock could sense the intent Molly's past self had to confront the consulting detective and tell him of her feelings for him. Yet, in an instant, those feelings became muddled and Molly found herself confused and disoriented. She'd forgotten why she had been in the cab.

The strange, tingling sensation that she felt in her body back then, but hadn't understood, she also felt it now. Somehow, she knew it was magic. As much as she used to believe that magic only existed in fairy tales, _this_ was real. Sherlock was a cat, _her_ cat and he just professed his love for her. And she realised...

"I love you."

The words came out breathlessly and Sherlock's heart slammed against his chest at this revelation. He trembled, "Do you mean it, Molly?"

She looked down at her cat with pure love shining in her eyes. "Yes. I've _always_ loved you, Sherlock. And I always will."

Once those words left her mouth, a startling bright light enveloped Sherlock's cat form and lifted him into the air. He meowed in surprise and Molly gasped, unable to turn her eyes away from what was happening in front of her.

Sherlock's body began to move round by some unseen force and his tiny paws stretched and stretched until they became hands and feet, his tail shrank until it disappeared and a backside grew in place of it. His torso expanded, the fur on his body turning into smooth, pale skin and the collar around his neck popped free, shooting off across the room. The triangle cat ears on top of his head shifted and turned into human ones, the whiskers receded and his pink nose changed colour and shape. Sherlock's entire face morphed into a man's and those brilliant eyes opened, revealing the cerulean and emerald orbs Molly had been fascinated by from the moment she saw him.

The transformation was now complete and the light that shone in the entire flat dimmed away until Sherlock stood on his own two feet in front of her. He was not wearing clothes, of course, but Molly was too amazed to notice right away.

She dared to step closer and touched his shoulder tentatively. "Sherlock..." she replied as tears rolled down her skin. "I-it's you."

"Yes, Molly. It's me."

That beautiful baritone voice rolled over her again like a spring rain. Sherlock smoothed his palm over her cheek and she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch.

They both stood in place without moving as they slowly moved their arms around each other. After so many years, they'd come full circle. Sherlock and Molly finally declared their love and now, the curse was over.


	8. Getting It Straight

**I am sorry, but it appears that I mislabeled the previous chapters and forgot to post a very important one before the chapters where Sherlock and Molly make love. This is that chapter.**

* * *

 _The curse is broken, but some things need to be cleared._

* * *

Sherlock marvelled at how wonderful the petite woman felt in his arms. For months, he longed to hold Molly like this, and now, finally, that wish was fulfilled. It was really a dream come true.

"I can't believe you're here and you're real. All this time." Molly smiled at the unruly mop of black curls on Sherlock's head. What a contrast to the slicked back style she'd always seen him wear in the 1800s. She shook her head in amazement, then her eyes glanced down and zipped back up to his face. "Oh, you're **naked**!" Molly's cheeks turned a beet red.

Sherlock hadn't even noticed himself because he was so used to being stuck in a cat's body, and since cats don't wear clothes, obviously he'd be wearing nothing. It didn't bother him now because he'd dreamed of this moment and making passionate love to Molly Hooper, but the embarrassment on her face as she furtively looked away told him that now was probably not the time.

"Er, right. I already know you don't have any men's clothes lying around, so perhaps a sheet from the hall closet?"

"Good idea." Molly hurried off the the closet, her cheeks burning as she was sure she wouldn't be able to get that image of Sherlock's cock out of her mind. God, she felt so wicked for thinking it, but she wondered what he would feel like inside of her. Her legs shook from the desire she felt.

When she returned with the sheet, Sherlock thanked her and wrapped it around his torso. That was even worse because now, he looked like a sexy Greek statue. As Molly started to suggest going to the store to purchases clothes for him, more memories suddenly popped into both of their minds. New images and scenes of the present flickered around their heads like a movie reel.

So many things had happened to them in this life, Sherlock mused. Her feelings for him had apparently been one thing that never changed, but everything else was new. Sherlock's hair for one, his calling John by his first name, being a public hero, beguiling and evading the woman, faking his death, realising his feelings for Molly, killing Magnussen to protect his friends.

Molly herself saw how much she'd changed and stayed the same in this life. She was still a pathologist, but no longer had to hide her gender from the world - now, **that** was a relief. She'd become more independent, stood up for herself more and had even helped Sherlock fake his death. When the consulting detective came back into her life two years later, Molly began aiding him on several cases and on one of those days, he'd kissed her. After that, they initiated a relationship and had been dating for two months.

All of these new memories were a bit overwhelming, but Molly and Sherlock knew that everything they had begun to remember was real and not imagined. Each memory had a clear, distinct look which made certain of the authenticity and Sherlock and Molly even felt accompanying emotions along with them.

"Nothing feels quite so good as clarity, don't you think?" The voice of a woman reached their ears and they realised someone else was in Molly's flat. It was a woman dressed in a long green dress with a black corset. While she was a complete stranger to Molly, she was all too familiar to Sherlock.

"Janine," he said and furrowed his brow.

Seeing the cautious look in his features, the enchantress waved her hand. "Oh, Sherlock. You can rest easy. I'm not here to cause you any more problems. I simply wanted to congratulate you for breaking my spell. You've done an excellent job and I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, I guess."

Molly cleared her throat. "Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt, but _you're_ the woman who put this spell, curse, whatever over me and Sherlock?"

"That's right."

"Well, in the past, I would say that was a bitchy thing to do, but...now that my memories resurfaced, I can't say that I blame you."

Sherlock gaped at Molly. "Excuse me?"

"You _were_ an arse, Sherlock, no matter how much of a genius you had been. Or are. But you've changed. You're not that man anymore. I can see the difference in you now. Without this...enchantment, you might have never found out about me." Molly smiled up at him and he returned it, smoothing his thumb along the apple of her cheek.

"The two of you are so adorable," Janine said with a sigh, looking at the ceiling as if she were remembering something. "If there's one thing I love about the outcome of my spells, it's seeing people fix their mistakes and get their hearts right." She looked back at Sherlock and Molly, but they were gazing into each other's eyes.

"If I could interrupt your reverie for a moment," Janine got their attention and she continued. "I need to tell you what situation you'll be stepping out into when you leave this flat."

"Of course," replied Sherlock. "Go ahead."

"Now. All of the people you both knew in your first life in 1895, John, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, your parents, their lives were intertwined with yours. As you were born again, so were they." Janine glanced at Sherlock. "You didn't know because your past two lives were spent in America, but your friends and family lived full lives here in England, unaware of your existence. Molly knew them, too, but unlike you, she had no memory of her past."

"You know, I always thought it was funny how you never suspected that Dr. Hooper was a woman in disguise. And to think that John Watson knew all along, but he never told you."

Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. "He knew?"

"Yes. You underestimated your friend a lot, Sherlock. I hope this time around, you'll be cleverer about that."

Ignoring the jibe, he asked, "What about my parents and Mycroft? You mentioned them, but what exactly do they remember?"

"Oh, their memories have been...rewritten to fit with the new ones you now have. Some are individual. Any experiences you have shared with them, they remember. Before the spell was broken, they just had no memory of you. But now, only you and Molly remember each of your past lives."

Molly finally spoke up again. "Don't you think that's unfair since you dragged other people into this curse along with Sherlock and I?"

Janine scoffed. "No, I don't. You both hold your friends and family in high esteem, which does you credit, but I'm afraid they wouldn't handle such knowledge as...gracefully as the two of you. Think about it. Can you see _Mycroft_ believing such a tale even though it is true? At best, he'd never want to speak of it again and prefer to imagine that it never happened. Trust me. It's better if you and Sherlock are the only ones who remember."

Sherlock felt like arguing against this decision, but he knew that Janine was right. Even though he still was still annoyed that she put this spell on them, her reasons for keeping it limited to himself and Molly were logically sound. Knowledge that you lived several lives in different time period was life changing and unbelievable news. Most people wouldn't be able to handle it.

"I suppose that makes sense."

"It's less messy, too." Janine sighed. "Better for them to have their memories blocked permanently than to let the floodgates rush in and potentially drive them mad or worse, have them disappear and never be heard from again."

"You've had some experience with that, I take it?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but don't worry. Your friends and family won't suspect a thing. To them, you have always existed in the here and now." Janine paused as if contemplating something before she continued. "I know you probably hate me for what I've done, but hopefully, you understand the gift I've given you."

Sherlock looked down at Molly and put his arm around her waist. "I certainly do."

"Good. Oh, and by the way, the rest of the world also knows that you're Sherlock Holmes and the _only_ Sherlock Holmes. Since your past life only exists for you and Molly's memory, you don't have to worry about getting a new identity, IDs, licenses or anything like that. Live well, Sherlock."

"I intend to."

"I will now take my leave of you. I have other people to test." The enchantress' eyes sparkled in mischief and in the blink of an eyes, she disappeared from sight.

After a beat of silence, Molly laughed. "Well, that was interesting."

"Mm. She's a rare woman."

"Should I be jealous?" The pathologist said in a playful tone.

"Never. I have the perfect one right beside me." Sherlock took Molly in his arms and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.


	9. You Belong To Me

_Sherlock and Molly give in to their long held desires._

* * *

The kiss which had been so caring and soft before gradually became passionate and more than a little heady. Molly moaned as Sherlock pressed his lips to her and slid his hands up her dress to cup her breasts. He rubbed circles on her nipples until they hardened into tiny points.

This woman had tantalised him for so long. As a cat, Sherlock was not at a loss to the mystery of Molly's body. Many times, he'd seen her in and out of the shower, in various states of undress, preparing for work or other social engagements. It was a little embarrassing that he'd been hung for her as a cat, but thankfully that spell was over and now, he could appreciate his pathologist the way he wanted to.

"Molly," Sherlock growled and pressed himself against her, nosing her cheek as her scent overwhelmed him. A happy consequence of being a cat, he supposed. "I've a need to ravish you."

The apples of her cheeks reddened again - _damn_ , she was adorable - and she dared to look anywhere but down. An unsure laugh spilled from her lips. "You've just become a man and now, you want us to have sex? Aren't you moving a little fast?"

"Fast? Molly, dear, I have been your pet for three months now. In that amount of time, you have bathed me, petted me, slept next to me and kissed me more times than I can count."

Her cheeks flushed as she tried to ignore the heat running through her body at his passion. "It's not like I kissed you on your lips."

"True, but the act itself made me want you all the more." Sherlock kissed her jaw and gently squeezed her breasts, eliciting another moan from her. "And I've also seen you naked countless times. Now that you're finally in my arms, I'm not going to let you go."

Molly's body shook with pleasure. It had been so long since she'd had a man and _this_ man...he was certainly better than the ones she'd known. She tugged the sheet and when it fell to the ground, her pupils dilated. Sherlock had quite an impressive chest. His abs and pectorals were formed, but not so much that he was like a bodybuilder. He was definitely in shape, though.

" _This_ was underneath all that fur?" Molly said incredulously.

"Like what you see?"

"Hell, yes. You look good enough to eat," she replied and subsequently pressed her lips to his chest, flicking her tongue out to lap at the skin.

Sherlock trembled in response and buried his hands in her hair, toes curling from the pleasure her mouth provided him. She swirled her tongue around his nipples and after several moments of this, Molly moved back up to kiss his lips again, but her hand wandered down south and stroked his penis.

"Oh, Molly. That feels wonderful."

The pathologist smoothed her thumb over the head of his cock and cupped his sac. Sherlock panted and sweat had accumulating on his temples. Molly furrowed her brow. From the way he was reacting to her ministrations, she'd think that he never... _oh_.

"Sherlock. Are you a virgin?"

"Yes," came his amorous reply. "I've never been with a woman before. On occasion, I would bring myself to conclusion, but after the curse, I've...been without."

Molly licked her lips. For some reason, hearing that was incredibly sexy to her. She nuzzled his nose with hers and pecked the tip of it. "Then it's my honour to be your first."

Sherlock's smile radiated through her like the warmth of the sun and she moved her hand back to his length, pumping and squeezing him. Her motions were faster now and Sherlock knew he couldn't hold out much longer. A few more thrusts and his balls tensed up, hips stuttering as he cried out, coming onto her hand.

It was the most beautiful sound that Molly had ever heard.

She let Sherlock lean against her as he caught his breath and when his breathing slowed to a normal rhythm, she said, "Come with me," and took his hand with her dry one, leading him to her bedroom. Once they were inside, Molly motioned for him to sit down on the bed. "I'll be right back."

She went into the bathroom, washed the cum off her hand and rinsed out a washcloth with water before heading to her room again. Sherlock looked up at her with a contented expression on his face that made her heart beat fast. She couldn't help but return it.

"I'll clean you up, okay?"

"Alright."

She sat at the edge of the bed and wiped him down carefully. When she finished, Molly set the washcloth on her nightstand. She stood up again and asked him, "Would you like to help me undress?"

The excitement in Sherlock's eyes as he whispered a reverent, "Yes!" made her grin.

Molly waited for him to stand up, then she turned around so he could remove her necklace. But instead of just taking the jewellery off, he set it on the nightstand and placed his mouth on her flesh, covering her neck with tiny kisses on the area where the necklace once rested. He brushed his nose there, too and breathed her in.

He did the same thing with her wrist. Once the bracelet was off, he held her hand up to his mouth and grazed the skin with his lips. The tenderness in his actions was amazingly sensual and Molly couldn't help but sigh in happiness.

She'd never been treated with such care, such affection. It was as if he were committing her body, the way she tasted and smelled to his memory and that was as erotic as it was endearing.

Sherlock's hands took ahold of her zipper and slowly tugged it down, revealing every inch of skin that he wanted to touch for the longest time. The dress fell to the floor and to his surprise, she was wearing no bra, only a pair of skimpy, frilly panties. He groaned and felt Molly shiver when he touched the skin above her bum.

The petite pathologist turned around, eyes locking onto his. Sherlock greedily looked over her body and, after stopping to admire her lovely breasts, he reached out to touch the fabric of her knickers. "This is all you were going to wear?" His words came out in a growl that was very possessive.

Molly licked her lips. "This dress wasn't designed for a bra and these were the only knickers that wouldn't show underneath it." Her voice came out in a tremor, not from fear, but from desire.

"Hm," was all he said and before Molly even knew what he was doing, he ripped the thin fabric off and tossed it away.

" _Sherlock!_ That cost me fifty pounds!" She tried to sound indignant, although it came out pretty weak because he really just turned her on.

"I'll buy you another one," he murmured before slanting his lips over hers again.


	10. To Be Loved

_Sherlock and Molly make love._

* * *

The sight before him made Sherlock take in a deep breath and pray for endurance. _Finally_ , Molly, was gloriously naked in front of him, looking like a goddess. The soft, feminine curves that her baggy clothes had hidden were now completely revealed to him and he couldn't stop gazing at her beauty.

"You are resplendent," he whispered and he took her in his arms to kiss her again. Molly returned the kiss, but Sherlock heard her sniffling and subsequently felt dampness on his cheeks. Curiously, he pulled back, wondering what she was crying about.

"You make me feel so beautiful."

"You **are** beautiful, Molly."

"Sometimes, it's hard to see myself that way. I'm-I'm short and my breasts are too small." She looked away, but Sherlock gently touched her chin and urged her to look him in the eyes.

"Darling, don't you know that bigger isn't always better? You're the perfect height for me because you fit in my arms perfectly. And as for your breasts..." He cupped her and rubbed his thumbs against her nipples, making her moan and arch her back. "They're the right size for my hands, like you were made for me and me alone."

"Because I am."

 _"Because you are."_

The pathologist continued to cry, but her tears were now tears of joy. Sherlock touched her heart like no man ever had and the words he said were precious to her. For a long time, she believed that she wasn't good enough, that her body was somewhat lacking or not very desirable. Then he came along and quelled all of her worries.

This man was truly one of a kind and Molly felt blessed that he was her soul mate. Already, she had a sense of fulfillment with him that she never knew when she was single. Sherlock was her missing puzzle piece.

"Take me to bed, Sherlock."

"As you wish," he replied and swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. Once he placed her on the mattress, he climbed on top of her and nipped her neck with his lips, leaving little love bites on the skin. Between bites, he said, "I want to make you come before I'm inside of you. Is that alright?"

Molly blinked rapidly and let out a huff as Sherlock's lips kissed, nibbled and sucked their way down to her bosom. "Oh, God...d-do what you want to me. Just, please don't stop touching me!"

Her words made him smile. "I could never stop doing that." Molly keened as his Cupid's bow lips took her nipple in his mouth and suckled her like a desperate man in need of nourishment. Her toes curled from the intensity of the moment and her cries grew louder every second.

"I love your breasts, Molly. They're soft and the way they taste..." At this, he brushed his nose along the underside of one of her mounds and mouthed it. "It's like heaven."

Sherlock covered her other breast with one hand and thumbed the nipple, making sure not to neglect the plump flesh. Hearing his lover's cries of arousal made him harder by the minute and it took intense concentration on his part so he wouldn't lose himself. He lapped at the pebbled tip of Molly's nipple and rubbed circles around the soft skin.

"Ah, Sherlock...that feels amazing. Ungh..." Molly's eyes rolled in the back of her head and her thighs squeezed together.

Taking note of that, Sherlock used his free hand to trail a path down the flat expanse of her belly and into her core where she was drenched. The scent of her arousal permeated his nostrils and moaned when her wall clamped down on his digit. "God, you're wet, Molly. Are you close?"

"Yes, oh _fuck_. I don't know how long I can hold it."

"You don't have to, darling. Just let yourself go and I'll catch you. I'll _always_ catch you. I promise." Sherlock licked the space between her breasts before capturing her lips with his again. His deft finger curled inside of her womb and brushed the tiny nub of pleasure that he'd been looking for.

When he touched it, Molly's reaction was immediate. She whined and dug her hand in Sherlock's hair, pulling him closer to her body. "God! **There** , Sherlock!"

He did as she said and focused his ministrations on her clit, flicking it again and again while keeping his other hand on her breast, smoothing his palm on the skin and occasionally rolling the nipple between his fingers. Sherlock also began to gently bite her collarbone, which helped push her over the edge and she cried out her release.

When she finally began to breathe normally, he pulled his hand out of her core and wiped it on the sheet. Afterwards, he kissed her nose, wrapping his arms around her. "That was a beautiful gift, Molly. Thank you."

Molly laughed and buried her face in his chest. "You're welcome, but we haven't finished yet, love."

"You can't be ready now?"

"I am. Maybe being with you has an effect on me. Possibly something... _magical_." She nuzzled his nose with hers, giggling.

"I wouldn't be surprised one bit," Sherlock replied and grazed her cheek with his hand. "Now, if you're sure...?"

"Yes. I need you inside of me, Sherlock. Please."

"I could never refuse you anything." Sherlock kissed her passionately, then drew back, positioning himself over Molly and entered her in one powerful stroke.

When he was fully inside of her, Molly marvelled at his girth. He filled her completely and she couldn't stop the smile that spread on her lips. If there was anything else that could convince her they were made for each other, it was this moment.

As Sherlock rocked into her body, Molly felt like their spirits were joining together. It was a wonderful sensation. She grasped his backside and lifted her legs up, the new angle pushing him deeper into her heat. The sound of their hips slapping together was unbelievably erotic to Molly's ears and she cooed as they continued their slow, sweet rhythm.

"How does that feel, darling?" He asked her in between thrusts.

"Mm, so _good_."

Sherlock was gentle and made sure to caress her cheek and give her loving kisses every so often. He listened to her sighs and moans, learning what she liked and what made her responsive. As a result, Molly's inner walls squeezed him hard enough that he thought he saw stars.

With his constant devotion to her body, he eventually hit her g spot which sent Molly over the edge, screaming his name. Seconds later, he orgasmed as well, but managed to push a few more times, to the point of over stimulation and brought them both maximum pleasure.

Now that they'd finished making love, Sherlock was tired to the point of collapsing, but he didn't want to crush Molly. He pulled his limp member out of her womanhood and laid beside her, taking her in his arms as he did before. Those plump lips placed a kiss on her neck and she leaned into his embrace.

Sherlock wanted to speak, but his eyes began to droop. All of his energy was gone and he knew that he'd need sleep to reenergise himself. It seemed like Molly was heading the same way. Her breathing had slowed down considerably and she was very still in his arms.

The consulting detective smiled and kissed her brow. "Goodnight, Molly Hooper. I love you."

He closed his eyes, but right before sleep claimed him, he heard her whisper, "I love you, Sherlock Holmes."


	11. Where We Are

**This chapter has a bit of sensuality, but nothing explicit.**

* * *

 _Sherlock and Molly are throwing a Christmas party at Baker Street, but Sherlock isn't exactly dressed for the occasion._

* * *

 **Six months later.**

Snow was falling, Christmas spirit was strong and there was pure, unadulterated joy in Molly's heart for, perhaps, the first time in her life. She glanced at the engagement ring on her finger and smiled. Sherlock had proposed to her a month after his transformation and she said yes. They were in love and everything felt glorious.

Once she reached 221B Baker Street, she opened the door and made her way inside. Mrs. Hudson greeted her with a warm hug.

"Molly, dear!"

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson. I've come to see if Sherlock's ready for the party."

The older lady scoffed and smiled. "Oh, I doubt it. Twenty minutes ago, he was doing some sort of horrid experiment with lungs. I am **definitely** not going up there, but if anyone could push him to get ready, it's you, soon-to-be Mrs. Holmes!"

Molly's eyes sparkled at that and she laughed delightedly. She and Sherlock hadn't told anyone about their engagement because they wanted to announce it at the Christmas party later that night. But when Mrs. Hudson witnessed Molly leaving Sherlock's flat at three in the morning a week ago, she put two and two together and realised that the relationship between consulting detective and pathologist had changed drastically.

So, they told her everything, but swore her to secrecy. At least until the party. Thankfully, the landlady agreed to keep quiet about Sherlock and Molly's new relationship, but she couldn't stop herself from beaming like a proud mother whenever she saw Molly wearing her engagement ring. "Now, we still are a ways off from the wedding, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, I know, but I wanted to say it at least once! It does sound quite lovely."

She couldn't argue with that. "I think so, too."

A loud ringing noise surprised both women and Mrs. Hudson patted Molly's arm. "That must be the cookies I'm baking. It's time for me to take them out of the oven, but you go on ahead and see if you can get Sherlock dressed. I'm sure he's still wearing his dressing gown and running that strange experiment."

Molly squeezed Mrs. Hudson's hands and went up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. When she opened the door, she smiled, seeing the beautiful Christmas tree that she and Sherlock decorated together a few days ago.

There were also other signs of the holiday season being celebrated at Baker Street. A string of Christmas lights was lying along the mantelpiece, a medium sized wreath hung on the door of the flat, red and green bows were spread throughout the room and a tiny sprig of mistletoe was directly hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

And Sherlock came into view from the kitchen, wearing absolutely nothing on his body.

Molly gaped at the sight. It's not like she hadn't seen naked men before - and she had **certainly** seen him naked plenty of times - but he still had the ability to make her blush like a schoolgirl.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?" She glared at him.

The consulting detective looked up at her and smirked. "Walking around, of course."

"Our guests will be arriving in the hour! Put some clothes on, please!"

Even though Molly chastised Sherlock about his current state of undress, she couldn't regret checking out the view. Those brilliant blue-green eyes, Cupid's bow lips, sharp cheekbones and tight arse made her feel like the luckiest women in the world. Of course, it was still hard to wrap her head around the fact that Sherlock had been cursed less than a year ago, but now, he was a flesh and blood man.

He looked just as handsome as he did all those years ago, save for one change: those curly ebony locks on his head. Molly loved how different his hair was now and she enjoyed running her hands through it. Sherlock enjoyed her attentions, too because it made him feel extremely comfortable and relaxed.

"Perhaps you should take yours off," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he placed the beaker on the table and walked over to her slowly.

Molly felt a pool of desire in her stomach and he core grew damp. How was it that he always managed to excite with just the timbre of that voice? It was maddening and honestly, Molly was surprised how they'd been able to spend enough time getting to know each other from all of the sex they'd been having. Not that she was complaining because the sex was **very** good.

Sherlock sniffed and his pupils dilated as he realised what that scent was. "Ah, you're aroused. My, my." He took her hand in his and kissed the pulse point with tenderness, making Molly's knees weak. Those elegant fingers grasped her hip and trailed down to rest on her bum, squeezing ever so gently. Needless to say, she was like putty in his hands.

It was completely unfair that he affected her so much! Every time she was around him, she found herself in need of a new pair of knickers and it was more difficult to focus when he came to Bart's because he would deliberately do things to distract her. Sherlock liked that his presence did things to Molly's concentration. It made their relationship quite interesting.

Molly swooned as Sherlock took her in his arms and kissed her softly. The action pressed her lower body to his and she moaned, clutched his shoulders. Slowly, Molly ran her tongue along Sherlock's tantalising upper lip. He always tasted so delicious. After a bit of foreplay, she pulled back and giggled.

"Sherlock, _seriously_. Put some clothes on!" Molly swatted his arms and moved out of his embrace. Then, she saw the scientific equipment on the kitchen table. "Are you kidding me? You're still doing an experiment?"

"Don't worry. It's almost finished."

"Oh, I _know_ it is. Because we're putting food on that table and you need to clean all of this off." Molly glanced at Sherlock's nude form and she sighed. "Fine. _I_ will clean up, but you go change. I mean it."

"Alright, but as soon as everyone leaves the party, we can go to my bedroom and finish where we left off here." He gave her another sensual kiss, entwining his fingers in her hair and crushing her body to his. Time seemed to stop for a moment, and then, Sherlock walked to his bedroom to get dressed, leaving a flustered Molly behind him.

Hopefully, this party wouldn't last too long.


	12. Christmas Party Surprise

_Sherlock and Molly spill the beans._

* * *

The moment Mycroft and Anthea walked into the room together, they noticed that the party was in full swing. Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Meena, John, Mary, Sherlock and Molly were all talking amicably. However, when the door to the flat opened, they all stopped to greet and wish the newcomers a Merry Christmas.

Sherlock frowned, though, when he saw that his brother had only come with his PA, now-girlfriend. Their parents were nowhere in sight.

"Where are Mummy and father?"

"Currently on a cruise in America. They wanted me to tell you that they're sorry to miss the party, but send their love."

"Oh, I hoped that they would show up. I guess it can't be helped. Thank you for relaying the message, Mycroft. I'm rather surprised you came."

"And why is that?"

"You've never been one for social engagements."

Anthea patted Mycroft's arm. "True, but I like to think that I've helped him in that area. Perhaps a little, hm?"

His face softened just a bit as he replied, "Yes, you have."

Sherlock couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. Clearly, Anthea was good for his brother. Who knew he'd see the day when Mycroft fell in love?

"Mycroft, would you like a cookie?"

The elder Holmes brother looked down at the platter of delicious smelling Christmas cookies Mrs. Hudson held in front of him and he smiled just a bit. "I usually prefer cake, but Anthea has been encouraging me to try different things. I suppose one won't hurt." He took a cookie in hand and bit off a piece, chewing slowly. Surprisingly, he enjoyed the sugary confection.

"Mrs. Hudson, I now see that Molly was right when she said you make very good cookies." He looked at his brother and a brief mischievous look danced across his features. "These are certainly better than ginger nuts."

Sherlock gave Mycroft a mock frown. "You dare insult my favourite cookies in my presence, Mycroft? I could throw you out of my flat for that."

"You could try, brother mine, but I doubt Molly would let you. She'd be displeased if you did something so churlish." He glanced over at the pathologist as she held baby Rosie and chatted with Greg and John by the fireplace.

"Perhaps, but I think Molly would still understand my sudden need to thrash you," Sherlock quipped.

Anthea grinned at the brothers' verbal sparring. She was used to their silly arguments from time to time through the years, but this teasing was more...affectionate. Of course, she wasn't going to say that out loud. "Now, now, boys. Play nice."

"Oh, Anthea, you know as well as I do that Mycroft doesn't play. He has no time for it since being the British government takes up all of his time."

"That's where I have to correct you, Sherlock. Mycroft is actually well acquainted with play, aren't you, dear?" Anthea nudged the man with her elbow, a saucy smile on her lips.

Mycroft coughed and twitched ever so slightly. "I believe I will get something to drink."

Sherlock just laughed and migrated over to Molly and the others.

"I'm sorry to hear about the divorce, Greg," Molly said sadly as she bounced Rosie on her knee. "I was really hoping you and your wife would be able to mend your differences."

"Yeah, well. Can't say I didn't try. I still love the woman and we had a good run up until the end, but sometimes you just have to let go." He took a long drink from his glass of wine.

Meena added, "It's healthier, too. That is, when you've done everything you could."

Greg nodded and sighed. "Thank you, but we shouldn't talk about something so melancholy at a Christmas party. What about you and Mary, John? Have you found out what you're having yet?" At this, the inspector motioned to Mary's large stomach.

"Twins. A boy and a girl," John said with a proud smile on his face. "Rosie's already excited to be a big sister. Every day, she keeps asking when they're coming."

Everyone laughed at that and even Mycroft let out a light chuckle.

"At this point, I just want them to get out of my body so I can have a proper drink," Mary said with a sigh. "Sparkling cider just doesn't have the same appeal as champagne and I feel as big as a house."

"Just as long as you don't give birth with me next to you in the car," Sherlock replied with a shudder. "I still have nightmares about the night of Rosie's birth."

"Consider it practice if you find yourself in a similar situation in the future."

Sherlock furrowed his brow and was about to ask Mary what she meant, but she gave him a wry grin, her eyes surreptitiously switching between he and Molly. At once, he understood what she was alluding to.

Mary knew about he and Molly's engagement. She had always been quick at deducing and her savviness gave her an edge over most people. It was something Sherlock had always admired about her.

Molly eyed Sherlock briefly and nodded her head. Obviously, she noticed Mary's little hint and was giving him the okay to tell their guests why they were at the party tonight. He cleared his throat and got attention.

"Speaking of the future, I have an important announcement to make. As you all know, Molly and I have been in a relationship for the past few months. Some of you were shocked about it, whereas, _others_ weren't really surprised. Either way, you all gave us your support and we appreciate it very much."

He took Molly's hand in his and she squeezed. "Molly and I have known each other for many years. For a long time, we never gave in to our feelings, just kept them hidden or ignored them for fear of rejection. That was one of the biggest mistakes either of us could have made. But we decided that we don't want to waste anymore time living in the past."

"Molly and I have only dated for a few months, but we've known each other for a lifetime. And we both agreed that we can't imagine life without being together. With that in mind, I asked her to marry me and she accepted my proposal."

Everyone gasped or stared in shock at this new revelation. Well, Mary and Mrs. Hudson knew, so they had huge smiles on their faces the entire time. John sputtered, but he grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders and hugged him warmly.

"You sneaky git! I never saw that coming, mate!"

"Well, we were careful to keep it under wraps."

"Not with me, though," Mary said, looking like the cat who ate the cream. "I always suspected there were some genuine feelings between you two."

John stared at her in shock. "Wait, you _knew_?"

"Of course, love. Why do you think I said we should make Sherlock and Molly Rosie's godparents?"

Sheepishly, he replied, "Because they're our closest friends?"

"You're so cute."

Meena squealed and hugged Molly and Sherlock at the same time. "This is such great news, you guys! Let me see that ring!"

Molly had been wearing her gloves in the flat under the pretence of having cold hands, but now that the cat was out of the bag, she tugged the soft fabric off and showed everyone her ring. It was a brilliant yellow sapphire surrounded by four tiny diamonds that sparkled in the light.

"Oh, my gosh. It's so beautiful." Meena touched her cheeks with her hands and did a little jump.

"Thanks, Meena," Molly said with a laugh.

Greg shook his head at the ring and turned to punch Sherlock on the arm, then he gave Molly a hug. "Congratulations, you two. It's about time you let someone make an honest man out of you, Sherlock."

The consulting detective frowned. "I've never understood that term. What does marriage have to do with honesty? There are plenty of relationships that are honest without having the commitment of marriage, like familial relationships. That doesn't make them any less important."

Molly nudged Sherlock on the side. "It's just a saying, love. Accept the compliment." She beamed at Greg and everyone else as they said their congratulations, hugging them or shaking their hands.

"Alright. But I still think it's silly."

"Wait until you get married, then you'll _really_ find a lot of things silly," quipped Mrs. Hudson with a smirk as she kissed Sherlock and Molly's cheeks.

Mycroft even looked pleased. "I know I that I never say this, but I'm proud of you, brother mine. Molly Hooper is "quite a catch" as the saying goes and I dare say, you would not find a better woman to compliment you."

"Yes," Anthea echoed. "You're perfect for each other and I'm very happy for you both."

"Thank you, Mycroft, Anthea. That means a great deal to me." Sherlock felt that his face might hurt from all of the smiling he was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The praise and well wishes he and Molly received from their friends and family made his heart warm. This was what they had needed all along. All of those years being separated and now, they were _finally_ in a place where they could have their happy ending.

Sherlock used to scoff at such things, but now, he saw life through a completely different set of eyes. His heart and soul belonged to Molly Hooper and that gave him a wonderful sense of peace.


	13. Together

_Sherlock and Molly give each other their Christmas gifts._

* * *

Sherlock came out of his bedroom in search of his fiancee. When he saw her sitting on the ground in front of the Christmas tree, he approached her curiously. "Molly, what are you doing?"

The pathologist had a small gift wrapped package in her hand and set it down in front of her, she looked up at Sherlock with a smile.

"I thought we could exchange one gift together tonight. When my parents were still alive, we used to do it every Christmas Eve. So, maybe it could be a tradition for us as well." She motioned to the gift in front of her.

It was a charming idea and Sherlock felt a rush of excitement as he knew the perfect present to give her. "I like the sound of that. Hold on." He went back to his bedroom briefly and came out again, bringing a small wrapped box with him. He sat down in front of Molly and crossed his legs like she did, so their knees were touching.

"This is for you. It's been sitting at the bottom of my dresser for a month now."

Molly smiled and took the box from Sherlock. "A month? And how come I never found it?" Her voice was playful as she tore the paper from the package.

"Well, it was in my underwear drawer," the detective said with a sheepish grin.

"No wonder. That's the last place I'd suspect you of hiding something." Once she completely removed the wrapping, she opened the box. A gasp left her mouth and she picked up a beautiful silver charm bracelet with tiny charms that clinked together.

"This is so beautiful, Sherlock."

"I knew you'd like it," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Each charm represents something that has significant meaning to your life."

Molly held the jewellery up and felt her heart tug. The first charm she spied was a tiny yellow ribbon. When she looked at the man in front of her, he smiled.

"A yellow ribbon because yellow is your favorite colour." As she looked at the other charms, he told her what they represented as well.

"A white lab coat because you're a pathologist, a humerus bone because I know you love cheesy jokes - especially when we're in the morgue - a cat face to remind you of the enchantment that changed both of our lives and..." Their eyes looked at the heart organ which was the last charm on the bracelet.

Sherlock's words came out in barely a whisper. "A human heart symbolising that you own my heart, now and forever."

Tears filled Molly's eyes, but they didn't spill over until she heard those words from Sherlock's lips. The emotion and intimacy of this moment was incredibly overwhelming and she couldn't stop from crying out and hugging Sherlock tightly.

"Oh, _Sherlock_! This is the sweetest gift I've ever been given in my entire life! I'll always treasure it! Thank you!"

The detective held Molly in his arms and rubbed little circles on her back. "You're welcome, darling," he replied and kissed her forehead gently.

For several minutes, they stayed in each other's embrace until Molly pulled back and slid the bracelet on her wrist. She admired it for a moment and touched Sherlock's cheek with her hand. "You know me well."

"After everything we've been together, I would hope so."

Together, they laughed and then, Molly placed his gift into his palm. "This is yours."

"What could it be? Perhaps an old pipe?"

"Oh, please. I'd never get you a pipe. Especially since you don't smoke anymore."

"Ah, yes. What do I need to smoke for when I have you?" Sherlock winked.

Molly blushed and he hummed to himself, doing away with the colourful wrapping paper and a pleased smile spread across his lips as he looked at the present. It was a pocket watch and when he inspected it, he realised that bore a striking resemblance to the one he possessed in the 1800s.

"Molly, where on earth did you get this? It looks just like my old one."

"That's because it _is_ your old one."

He stared at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Janine came to my flat the day after our engagement. She gave me that pocket watch and told me it was a memento. Apparently, she'd kept it all of these years, waiting for the day you'd get your head out of your arse." At Sherlock's raised eyebrow, Molly smirked, adding, "Her words, not mine."

"She really _was_ rooting for us after all." Sherlock opened the watch and touched the tiny picture that rested inside. It was a small photo of Molly. The image was very old, but preserved well and from the appearance of her hair style and clothes, Sherlock knew that it was also from the 1800s. He looked at her in wonder. "This is you."

"A hundred and twenty years ago, yes. Before I started working at Bart's and before I adopted a male disguise. I thought you'd want to see what I looked like in our previous life, but I know we said we wouldn't let ourselves become stuck in the past. So, you can replace it if you want...with this." Molly handed him another tiny picture of herself, except this one was recent.

Sherlock accepted the picture and glanced at both it and the one currently in his pocket watch. Silently, he made up his mind and placed the modern photo on top of the old one, closing it with care.

"It's true that we shouldn't always look back to the past. Still, there's nothing wrong with keeping the memories alive. You and I didn't get off on the right foot all those years ago, but I admired how capable you were at your job. You challenged me and I was a terrible ass in return."

Molly shook her head. "I forgave you long ago. True, you were an ass, but you didn't treat me like someone who was beneath you. You challenged me just as I challenged you and I respected you for that." She held his hand in hers again and squeezed it before continuing.

"Every time you came to Bart's, I fell more in love with you and I actually worked up the courage to tell you one day, but that was the same day Janine put that enchantment on you and my memories of you vanished in an instant."

Sherlock chuckled. "Who knew that you forgetting me would be the most best thing that ever happened to both of us?"

"You always say such wonderful things," Molly replied with a happy sigh.

"I try."

"You succeed." The pathologist entwined her fingers with Sherlock's and laid it to her heart. Their eyes met when she spoke it was in a breathy voice, full of emotion. "You're my dream come true."

He pressed his head to hers and tears rolled down his own cheeks. "And you think _I_ say wonderful things?"

"You do."

"Oh, Molly. My darling Molly...I love you."

"And I love you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at Molly intently and laid her down on the carpet. They took their time with each other, hands removing clothes and caressing skin with fervor, breaths mingling together as they exchanged passionate kisses.

For the two of them, making love like this, gently and slowly, was a benediction. Their hands were entwined as they moved their bodies to join together and when they reached their crescendo, it was soul shaking and beautiful beyond words.

Eventually, Molly's eyelids began to droop and Sherlock picked her up, carrying her to his bedroom to place her on the mattress. Once she was snuggled under the warm covers, he slid in beside her and held her in his arms. As sleep claimed them both, they felt a sense of contentment and gratefulness that they'd finally found a home in each other.


End file.
